A Canceled Wednesday
by WannabeMarySue
Summary: Welcome to Night Vale, where you don't think about the dog park, strange lights above the Arby's are normal, and Glow Clouds attend PTA meetings. Tonight, dear listeners, a certain scientist with perfect hair is conducting research on a radio reporter's smooth as silk voice. Purely for scientific reasons, of course.


**Title: A Canceled Wednesday**

**Words: 941**

**Warnings: Mentions of sex, no spoilers**

Wednesday had been canceled. Again. And now Carlos was left standing outside of what was usually his lab, frustration bubbling up inside of him. On every canceled Wednesday, for reasons unknown to him, his lab turned into a swirling, black void of indescribable despair and anguish. The city council had sent him a letter warning him not to think about it. Repercussions for doing so would involve a nice long trip to Radon Canyon to think about why thinking was bad. Carlos wasn't keen on taking such a trip.

The representative that had been sent to deliver the letter had been sucked into the void with a shriek, because he had not walked on the sidewalk. The void was a rather finicky thing, Carlos had discovered. It didn't like people walking on its neatly trimmed lawn, and it especially didn't like people involved with politics. The representative really should have known better. But, that was about all Carlos had discovered about the void, and that was likely all he would ever discover about its immeasurable depths.

It was beginning to grow dark, and two black helicopters had been sighted over the desert right outside Night Vale; the cities other occupants had already locked themselves inside their pantries, shower caps placed on their children's heads for extra protection.

Carlos began to walk towards the radio station, the black helicopters should hold off from kidnapping anyone for at least the five minutes it would take him to walk there. He found himself craving the sound of Cecil's smooth voice. Even when Carlos was extremely frustrated by the unexplainable, physics defying, science eluding happenings of Night Vale, Cecil's voice never failed to calm him down. And a few praising comments about his hair never hurt either.

He arrived at the radio station; the on air sign hanging above the door illuminated the hooded figure standing by the entrance in an eerie red light. Carlos averted his eyes and cleared his mind. _He didn't see it, it wasn't there. He didn't see it, it wasn't there. He didn't see it, it wasn't there._

He passed safely through the doorway and into the station. The hooded figure did not follow him. He made his way over to the sound booth where Cecil broadcasted from and silently let himself in. He gave the reporter a small smile and sat down in one of the chairs.

Cecil beamed back at him, his third eye glowing with happiness.

"Listeners," Cecil intoned, his eyes never leaving Carlos's, "Carlos and his luscious hair that seems to defy the very boundaries of beauty itself has joined me in the sound booth. His eyes are sparkling particularly bright this evening, perhaps he has made a new scientific discovery about the apparent strangeness of Night Vale. Have you come to share something of great importance with us tonight, Carlos?"

Carlos shook his head, a rueful smile crossing his features. He had been able to do little research today, and he resented it completely and utterly.

"It seems, listeners, that he has discovered nothing of consequence today, but that is quite alright, because his jaw line is chiseled to perfection and that makes up for any scientific shortcomings. And now, today's traffic. Listeners, Exit 49 has never existed. It never did and it never will. The mayor adamantly insisted this today at an impromptu news interview on the highway. You haven't seen any cars vanish at this exit, nor have you ever seen any hooded figures gather on the side of the road by this exit, simply because it does not exist. Now for the weather."

As the weather segment began, Cecil looked up from his notes at Carlos. He was reclined in his chair, much more relaxed than when he had first come inside the sound booth. His eyes were closed and his perfect hair was flopped in front of his left eye, obscuring it from view.

"A word from our sponsor. Blood, dripping. Circles, unending. The sacrifice has been made. The price has been met. All shall end as it has begun. None shall survive. No one is safe. This message has been brought to you by Target, where all products are paid for in blood."

Carlos cracked an eye open at that. The chain stores in Night Vale were wildly different from those in the rest of the U.S. He had his theories about that, but every time he lingered on one too long, he received a reprimanding note from the city council. He didn't exactly fancy a trip to the abandon mine shaft, even if it did have HBO. He wasn't really that fond of Game of Thrones graphic shows of violence.

"And now, dear listeners, I leave you with this. Sometimes, fate leads us to unexpected, but appropriate places. The angels would have us believe that this is God's doing, but we must all chose to believe our own truths. Good night, Night Vale, good night."

Long after Cecil had bid goodnight to the citizens of Night Vale, hours after the scientist and the reporter had rushed back to the apartment they now shared, Carlos lay in bed, his body intertwined with Cecil's as he contemplated the reporter's intoxicating voice.

It was smooth, calming, bottomless when he spoke on the radio, but in bed that smooth, low voice was pure, unadulterated sex as Cecil writhed against Carlos's body like tendrils of sweet, sweet darkness. Carlos cuddled closer to Cecil, and knew, deep inside him, that even if the Glow Cloud took every single one of his memories and his very conscience was lost to the void, he would never forget the smoky softness of Cecil's voice. It was simply unforgettable.


End file.
